


Collar

by wisia



Category: DCU
Genre: Light BDSM, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-28
Updated: 2012-12-28
Packaged: 2017-11-22 17:01:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/612140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wisia/pseuds/wisia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From Lector's Prompt:</p><p>Tim and Ra’s had sex several times while he was with the league. Fairly kinky sex, actually, most of it in a D/s context. Now that Tim’s back with the family, the abrupt stop is kind of messing with his head. Somehow, Dick finds out about it, and the image of his little brother in a collar is very compelling…</p>
            </blockquote>





	Collar

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LectorEl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LectorEl/gifts).



               Tim paused for a fraction of a second before closing the door behind him softly. And his legs shook just a little. His breath came out hard in a low sigh as his eyes closed halfway. He fell back against the door, braced against it as he tried to steady himself. Because he almost messed up during patrol. Because he was thinking about sex. Wanted sex. Needed sex. And it was a bit embarrassing how much Tim couldn’t stop thinking about sex.

                If it was just sticking a hand down his pants, Tim could handle it. But this was different. Because it wasn’t just sex. It was the sex he had with Ra’s. Collared and entirely submissive. Down on his knees, and Tim froze.

                Because there was a package on his bed. And there was someone in his room. That he hadn’t noticed because he was so lost in his thoughts about cuffs. Tim swallowed hard. He could have been killed for being this off guard, but he wasn’t. Because it was Dick standing half in the shadows, a dark look on his face.

                “Dick, what are you doing here?” Tim asked, but his body was tensing. With both frustration and the anticipation of a reprimand. For not being focused during patrol. For not being able to have any release.

                Dick nodded at the box. There was a certain gleam in his eyes. “It’s for you. Go ahead. Open it.”

                Tim forced his body to relax and he crossed over to pick up the smooth box. When he lifted the lid, he turned entirely white. There, nestled on fine tissue paper, was a collar. Black with the Nightwing insignia as the clasp.

                “Is this a joke? Because this isn’t funny,” Tim said sharply. Because Dick couldn’t. Wouldn’t. And it wasn’t like Dick knew what kind of things Tim did while he was with the League.

                “I heard some rumors,” Dick replied, squashing that notion. He hadn’t moved one inch. Just watched as Tim flushed, pink spreading across his cheeks.

                “You did?”

                “Uh-huh,” Dick said. “I think they’re true.”

                And Tim was rooted. Trying to ignore the quake that was building in his legs.

                “What do you intend to do?” Tim asked quietly, and he was clutching the box tightly to his chest. There was a smirk to Dick’s lips, dangerous and playful.

                “Why don’t you put on the collar and find out?”

Tim swallowed hard again. Because the box in his hand was heavy and he didn’t expect this. That Dick would even consider this.

                He let the box drop to the ground, fingers tight on the collar. He ran an index finger across the insignia there, a low almost hysteric whine in his throat. Because Tim needed this. Needed it more than anything but—

                “Dick,” he licked his lips, “you’re not playing around, are you?”

                Because there was no going back, no way to fix this if it wasn’t what Tim thought it was. And as much as Tim really, really needed it, this wasn’t worth it if it wasn’t.

                Dick’s eyes were a dark, dark blue and there was a seriousness there that shut out of all Dick’s usual cheeriness.

                “Put the collar on,” Dick ordered. He wasn’t going to ask again. And Tim’s eyes squeezed shut, body quaking at the authority in that voice, Nightwing’s voice with a borderline of Batman. His fingers brushed against the clasp, the insignia there, and the anticipation of this unique situation was so tempting. With that symbol so clear cut against the pads of his fingers Tim didn’t need to see to know who it belonged to. To know his choice.

                He was Dick’s for the night. And Tim unbuckled it, feeling with his fingertips to place it around his neck and fasten it securely. It was a perfect fit. Then, Tim opened his eyes, heat low in his belly and still shaking, tense and needy.

                “It’s on,” he said. Dick’s expression was unreadable, and Tim briefly panicked. That he was wrong and he was an idiot, but he stayed still. Stood still and quiet, waiting for Dick to make his move because Tim had made his.

                “Get on the bed.”

                And Tim almost sighed in relief because the wait was almost too long and he was all tense and needy. He had to force himself to walk to his bed in slow steady steps. He had barely crawled onto the edge when Dick came and pinned him from behind, hand cuffing him to the bed.

                “Dick!” He yelled in surprise.

                “Be good, Timmy,” Dick grinned, his cheerful tones returning as he made sure the locks were secure and Tim couldn’t do a thing to free himself with a Houdini trick.

                And Tim shuddered at Dick’s breath at his ear, shuddered because this was both familiar and different. Ra’s preferred to use ropes because it was a bit of tradition according to him. But this? This was cool cut steel, sleek metal and Tim bit down on his lips. It felt so good to feel binds on his wrists again, and his body hummed with want.

                He could feel Dick’s body, light and barely pressing down on his. Tim turned his head and his nose was right against the column of Dick’s throat. He didn’t even need to inhale to smell Dick, and Tim glided his tongue over it. Dick looked down at him.

                “No touching,” and Tim retreated his tongue. Because he was going to be good. Then a low hiss escaped Tim’s mouth when Dick accidentally brushed a hand against a nipple. Tim could feel them hardening from that brief touch through cotton fabric.

                Dick shifted on the bed, and Tim couldn’t stop the noise in his throat because Dick settled on top of him more firmly.

                “Oh, you like that?” Dick asked, and he was quick to take advantage, a hand pinching and tweaking the nub. Tim groaned out loud.

                “Dick…”

                And Tim was being kissed, warm wet tongue pushing into his mouth, sucking and oh, there were teeth. Dick tasted like the chocolate cake Alfred served for dessert. Tim wriggled, hips thrusting up. But a hand was pushing his hips back down, forcing them flat against the bed. Tim whined at that, but Dick was speaking.

                “Keep your hips still, Tim. No moving.”

                Tim obeyed, relaxing to the hold.

                “Good boy,” Dick whispered and he was licking his way across Tim’s neck, even tasting the collar snug against Tim’s throat. He licked his way past the collar to the dip, the hollow just below the collar. Tim’s hips twitched, but Tim forced himself to keep still. Because he couldn’t afford to disobey when he needed this so much after so long.

                “Dick please.”

                It was hard to breathe, to think because this was the closest Tim has been to release.

                Dick laughed and Tim whimpered as his shirt was shoved up, bunching uncomfortably right below his scapulas. And he pulled against the cuffs, wishing he could just grab Dick’s head and push it down.

                Then Tim groaned again because Dick’s mouth was trailing across his chest, leaving small pink mars across the skin and—

                “Tim,” Dick warned. “Keep still.”

                And there were tears prickling at the corner of Tim’s eyes because it was good and so hard to keep still. To keep his hips from moving upward in want of friction when he could feel Dick’s fingers running along his side, the calluses there rough against his skin and a sweep of Dick’s hair, tickling as Dick moved downward.

                “Tim!”

                Tim panted, breathing shallowly as he wrestled his mind to keep his body from moving.

                “Sorry,” Tim apologized. “Please, sorry. I won’t do it again.”

                The words fell from his mouth way too easily, and Dick seemed to sense it because he stopped, leaving Tim still hot and bothered and tense. Left the coiling and tightening and curling low in his belly unfulfilled.

                “No, you’re not.”

                And Tim watched as Dick moved back, thighs still straddling Tim. Dick stripped off his shirt, and Tim couldn’t help but study that flex of muscle, mouth dry. Because even with all the scars, Dick’s body was strong and—

                “You definitely don’t get to touch, Tim.”

                Dick was moving up again, careful to keep from pressing his chest to Tim’s.

                “Because I don’t believe you,” Dick continued into his ear, tongue darting out to briefly touch the shell.

                “Please, I’m sorry.”

                “Are you?” And Dick nipped his ear. Tim’s hands clenched at the air, metal digging into his wrists.

                “Yes, yes I am,” Tim choked out, begging because this wasn’t fair.

                “I hope so,” Dick hummed and he was hooking his fingers into Tim’s sweatpants and boxers, dragging them down.

                “Oh god,” Tim cried. It was too slow. Too painfully slow as the confining garments were inched down a few centimeters at a time.

And Tim moaned when he was finally free. He was so hard, had been since he entered his room, since he opened the box and found the collar. Then he flushed pink, could feel it spreading from his cheeks to his neck. Dick was gazing down at him openly, unabashedly.

                “You’re so pretty, Tim.”

                Dick was pushing his legs apart, knees up and—

                “Fuck—“

                “Such a dirty mouth. I didn’t teach that,” Dick said all playful and teasing.

                “I—,” and Tim broke off. Because Dick was pressing a finger to his hole.

                “Remember to keep still,” Dick reminded, and Tim felt the coolness of lube on his entrance.

                Dick hummed some more as he pushed a finger in and that made Tim cried out again.

                “So tight, Timmy. You really need this, don’t you?”

                The pink from his face and neck deepen to red because Tim was spread, spread wide for Dick and he didn’t think that Dick would ever see him this way.

                “So tight,” Dick repeated.

                And Tim would have told Dick to shut up, but he was busy trying to keep still. It was made even more difficult when Dick slid in a second finger and then a third—

                “Oh!”

                That was right against his prostate. Tim gritted his teeth and Dick continued to prep him, adding more lube, fingers pumping and stretching him slowly.

                “Very good, Tim,” Dick praised. His voice was way too cheerful for this, but Tim mourned when the fingers left him suddenly.

                Then he swore violently when Dick entered him. He hadn’t even noticed when Dick undid his pants. Or that packets of condom to the right of his head. Tim’s eyes slid shut as he adjusted to Dick’s length in him.

                “God, Tim,” Dick breathed out heavily. “You feel so good.”

                He moved out a little before thrusting back in experimentally.

                “Dick,” Tim groaned. “Please—“

                “Yes. Go ahead, move,” Dick said as he thrust into Tim again. The next sounds out of Tim’s mouth were swallowed by Dick’s mouth. Tim arched his hips, trying to meet every thrust and shove.

                “You look so hot with my mark.”

                  Dick brought hand up to rest on the collar possessively. And Tim was all high pitched sounds and broken gasps as Dick wrapped a hand around his aching cock, stroking up and down.

                “Hmm…,” and because Tim burned with need, it only took a few pumps before he came hard, sticky cum splattered across the lower half of his stomach and Dick’s chest. And he clenched down hard as Dick finished and came with a few more thrusts.

              Dick panted in his ear.

              “Good, Tim?”

               “Yeah.” Tim felt boneless, all the tension drained out of him. Dick pushed Tim’s sweat slicked hair out of his forehead.

             “I’m not done with you yet, you know.”

              And that held more promises for Tim than it should have.


End file.
